Cold Turkey
by Fenrir's Daughter
Summary: Kurt can quit anytime he wants, he says, but his brother's going to stick around to be sure. Heroin withdrawal ain't something you wanna go through alone. Narrative, post AcceleRacers, Mark Wylde's POV.


A/N: Finally, the moment you've all been waiting for, the sequel to **Silent Addiction.**YAAAAAAY! Kurt's sober! Kinda sorta. Anyway, this is told from his brother Markie's point of view. Cuz I felt like it.

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How could something like this happen? I don't want to be angry with him, but I just don't understand! How could he do this to himself? To his own body? Why would he? Why would _anyone?_ I…I just don't get it. I really don't.

Dammit, how could he do this to me? I'm his brother! We're supposed to look out for each other, but this is ridiculous! But I can't abandon him now. Not just because he abandoned me…

Okay, I know that look. You have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, I love my brother Kurt; he's my big bro, and I always looked up to him. But he's put me through a lot in the past few years, and I don't know if I can take his screw-ups anymore. He's killing himself, and he doesn't even care. And that's what's killing me.

It started back on Highway 35, I guess, maybe even before that. Kurt really let me down. This "Zed 36" guy almost killed some the other drivers, and then it turned out Kurt was him. My own brother, my golden ideal, was a cheat; a cheat and a coward who only cared about himself. I was so disappointed.

He only cared about himself—or, at least, that's what I thought—and this was confirmed, as far as I was concerned, when he left me to rot in jail. Did you know that putz never visited me in the joint? Nope. Not even once. I needed Kurt; he was my brother, and I needed him more than anything, because I was scared half to death, and he abandoned me. Kurt left me to go it alone.

I wasn't always this big and tough, y'know. Before the cherry-tops nailed me, I was a charming little thing; not too thin, not too fat, just above average height, masculine, but not terribly butch, with nice hair and a handsome face. I wasn't just _cute;_ I was down-right _good-looking._Even gave Kurt a run for his money with the girls. I was attractive.

Do you know what they do to guys like that in prison…?

Or, at least…what they _tried_ to do to me. I wouldn't let them. It wasn't easy, lemme tell ya; some of those guys, they see new meat an' they're on it like a hungry dog. My cellmate tried to…to… He wanted to do some pretty nasty things to me. He held me down, and I could see he was desperate. I kicked him off of me, but he just laughed and came at me again, started telling me the things he was going to do to my body. I was afraid.

We struggled for a few minutes, and I finally managed to hit him hard enough where he hesitated. I only had a moment, and I took it. I grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head against the wall. He fell down, dazed, but I was so afraid of the things he said, what he wanted to do to me…I grabbed him again, and slammed his head into the concrete floor again. And again. And again.

Towards the end, I think he asked me not to hurt him, but I was so out of it like I wasn't even there. I kept banging his head on the floor. Even after I heard his skull crack open, even when I was just tenderizing pounds of raw meat, I kept hitting him. When the guards pulled me off the guy, I was crying, and covered in my cellmate's blood.

You've got to understand! It was self-defense, him or me!! The guards and the warden understood…they knew I was just a mixed up kid with a bad rap and worse luck. I didn't even get extra time added onto my sentence. But I felt awful for what I'd done. If Kurt hadn't gone and left me, I wouldn't have ended up in this mess. I wouldn't have had to kill that guy if it weren't for Kurt! It was _his_ fault, not mine, _his._

When I got out, Kurt was with the Teku, and the Teku got on worst with the Metal Maniacs, so I joined the Metal Maniacs. It was nice being around Taro. He understood betrayal, after the way Lani dumped him, and he and Tork were really there for me. But I still hated Kurt for what he made me do.

Prick. I hated him. I really did. I wanted him to die. I wanted him to die slowly. Slowly and painfully, and I told him so every chance I got. After everything he put me through, Kurt wasn't my brother anymore, and I wanted him to know that. I let him know how much I hated him, and he just stood there and took it. He just let me beat on him, but he seemed okay.

And then, there was that mess with the Drones. The second mess. Like, y'know, that stuff _always_happens with Dr. Tezla, crazy old man. I was captured, I guess you could say…

They wanted to know things. I don't remember for sure if I told them what they wanted to know. But they found the Acceledrome, and I lost my arm—No. They _took_ it from me. While that robotic whore-bitch was asking questions, they were slicing into me. I never—it just… Never mind. I don't want to talk about that. The point is—!! The _point_ is that Kurt disappointed me again.

But then how am I here? Lemme tell you—I didn't think he would come for me. I expected him to abandon me _again,_ and he showed up like some white knight to the rescue. He was probably high, but he saved me. Not just from the Drones, but from myself.

And that's why I can't leave him now. Kurt refuses to go to the hospital, no matter how much I or Shirako or anyone beg or plead, so I've got to stay here with him. Kurt said at the beginning that he got himself into this mess and that he can get himself out of it again, but he's wrong. He's dead wrong, and he knows it. He needs me, even though he won't admit it. He says he doesn't even _want_ me here—that no one should see him like this—but I'm sticking around. He's shaking real bad, his skin's cold and clammy, and he's crying like a little girl. He begs me for his works, and when I tell him no, he curses at me, starts rocking back and forth. Just looking at him is excruciating. His agonized cries fill the air, as I expected. The lady on the quitter's hotline said the first three days of heroin withdrawal are always the roughest. I know he's going through Hell, but a part of me can't help but take pleasure in his pain. Hopefully, he'll learn something from all this.

As he begins to vomit for the umpteenth time this day, I sigh and pat his back, and speak to him in an annoyed voice that reminds me of our mother. "And what have we learned today, Kurt? That's right: drugs are _bad_. Say it with me now..."

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A/N: Yeah, soooo... Withdrawal sucks. But that's what he gets for taking heroin. Cuz Heroin is BAD.


End file.
